It's Only Love
by AidanPryde001
Summary: If only one request is granted, then let me be the one to encourage you to choose. For that choice, my friend, is the greatest power humanity possesses.
1. Chapter 1

Good evening ladies and gentlemen. This is something that has been on my mind for a while now. I won't clue you in on too much, but you can expect an Evangelion story like no other here. I won't proclaim to have holy writ here, just a fresh new look on the Evaverse. Without further ado, I present to you my latest.

Disclaimer: Standard. If I have to explain it, then I probably don't own it. Like the various acronims herein.

Author's note: I will post a glossary at the end of the chapter for those of you who don't speak military. Do not be afraid!

* * *

It's Only Love.

Three simple words… often not the three that you would expect to hear, yet just as powerful as the usual. But I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Jon. I often sit and think about just how powerful those three words were… are to me. But also, and perhaps more importantly, to one whom I think of as my brother. We did not feel very close at first… Hell, we couldn't even communicate effectively the first few weeks of our friendship. We just had this unspoken bond. I had intended to share that with my own children at some point, but lately things don't seem very likely to pan out in such a way. Maybe with this little tale, I can help share my experience with you, and that you will also know that it only takes one thing, one event, one choice to change the course of a life.

I'm not one to usually take risks. Well… that statement is not entirely accurate. There are certain circumstances that warrant erratic, and perhaps foolish, behavior. Now was one of those times.

I was late. I know that sounds ridiculous, but when you are suddenly under attack, and you are late to your squadron, things tend to bite you in the intelligent center of your brain, and you go a little dumb.

This particular incident was one that would have great influence over my life, though at the time, I was too focused on trying to make it to the Security Forces offices on the base. Which particular base is not really important, but I was late, and the mortars were waiting for no one.

I was a brand new 2nd Lieutenant in the 82nd SF squadron in the United States Air Force. I was anxious to get in the thick of it, and begin my career. At twenty three, I had a lot to work on, and my first sergeant really had his work cut out for him. Trying to keep the base secure with forty airmen under him and a new, wet-behind-the-nose 2LT following him around like a lost puppy was certainly a hard job. But I knew that he could handle it. He had over 20 years experience in the Air Force, where I was just beginning my first active duty year.

They certainly didn't train us for a mortar shell exploding on your hummer in basic's self-aid and buddy care. I was out of the driver's side of the vehicle and flat on my face before I knew what hit me. The shell landed in the rear right side of the truck, and the resulting explosion threw me clear through the driver door and out of the wreck.

After my truck got hit, I just remember covering my head with my arms and lying as still as I could. I think the aggressors that attacked my base finished their job, or ran out of ammunition, because there were no more shells after that. Or none that I remember anyway. For a long while, I stayed in my little shallow body cast of dirt, just reflecting, I had just survived a mortar attack in a hummer. I was certain that the reminder of my day would be a bit less traumatic.

As soon as the thought hit me, I shivered. It was pretty violent; enough so, that I sat up and took in my surroundings. There was an up-armored hummer coming towards my position at a very high rate. As soon as I was able to pick them out, the gunner of the hummer jumped half way out of the dorsal firing platform, raised his hands in clear shock, and dove in for a brief second. I saw the hummer swerve for a brief fraction, and then continue on its previous high speed intercept mission to my location.

Before the crew, my crew, arrived I took stock of my surroundings. The debris from my hummer was smoldering all around me, almost forming a perfect circle of junk with myself as the epicenter.

The hummer finally closed, and one of my flight sergeants jumped out of the hummer and ran to me.

"LT! HOLY SHIT LT! We thought you just bought it!" The sergeant was clearly shaken up. His face, normally a healthy suntanned brown, was almost white. I sat back and rose to stand, feeling like the morning after a good leave. I could tell there was massive bruising internally and externally; just breathing hurt.

I took in the rescue party, and noticed one of the junior airmen standing next to the hummer with his weapon hanging from the three-point sling. His jaw matched his weapon, until he slowly moved his hands to one of the pockets on his uniform blouse. He produced a pack of cigarettes and lit one up. I have never seen a person go through a smoke in two drags, but this kid of no more than 18 finished one like it was air. I don't know what possessed me, the stress or the realization that I just survived 50 millimeters of high explosive, but I staggered over to him, and took the new cig from his hands just as he lit it, and took a long drag. I let the acrid smoke fill my lungs, and let it out slowly.

"Damn LT. I guess that's a good enough reason to start if I've ever seen one." I considered the sergeant's words while twirling the smoldering cig in my fingers.

"I guess you're right. By the way, I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Jon Fowler, your new section Lieutenant." I finished and presented the sergeant my hand. He took it only after a moment's pause.

"Tech Sergeant Dwayne Sims. Hellova first day, huh sir?" I shared a grin with the sergeant, and then we both started laughing. We only stopped because the airman, who I noticed was the gunner for the hummer, cleared his throat.

"Uh, sir? Sergeant? I think that we are due back to the CP."

We shook it off, and mounted up. I was hoping that my tardiness would be dismissed on account of my ride being destroyed by enemy fire, and that my day would be salvaged. I was mistaken.

The command bunker for the security forces on base was a flurry of activity when the sergeant brought us up in the hummer. I thanked him for the ride, and quickly let myself inside. I barely noticed the greetings from the staff; my goal was at the far end of the structure, and I had to wade through a lot of personnel trying to fix the morning's action reports.

Finally, after many greetings and a few stares, I made it to the Commander's office. I looked down and swore.

"Aw man. I look like shit." Indeed. My ABU's were covered in a mix of sand, grease, soot, and oil. This was definitely not going to go over well with the old man. I also noticed that I still felt like a tractor got a hold of me and tried some chiropractic moves on my entire body.

Shaking my head slowly, I drew myself up to attention, and knocked twice.

"Enter." That was it. I was going in. This was going to be wonderful.

I opened the door, marched to a point two paces from the only desk in the room, and threw up a crisp salute.

"2nd Lieutenant Fowler, reporting as order, sir." I noticed a significant pause, the commander sizing me up apparently, before finally, "At ease LT."

At the words, I finally looked down, and into the face of a hardened veteran. The commander was a lieutenant colonel, well on into his mid forties with his regulation haircut gleaming white.

I mentally cringed. _I hope that the stress of command only does that to blondes._

He must have noticed my staring, because his cough forced me to look into his steel blue eyes.

"Lieutenant, I won't lie to you. You look like shit." I frowned and he took that as he should.

"No, really son, you look like you were hit with a mortar." His voice held no humor what so ever, and I could not mirror his bearing.

I broke the frown with a sharp laugh, which he thought wasn't very funny, and I quickly killed all thoughts of irony.

"Sir, you wouldn't believe me if I told you." I managed to say that without any trace of the levity that I had mere seconds before. Before he could react to my statement, the phone on his desk rang, and he gave me a short glare before answering.

I took the moment to mentally shut down. The morning's events were catching up to me, and I didn't think that I could make it to chow. Hell, I'd already missed sick call, so I was going to have to tough it out with the man. But I still had to think, I was lucky to be alive. That one thought put me in a pleasant mood, enough to get me through the rest of the meeting anyway.

The Colonel slammed the receiver back on the cradle of the phone with enough force to re-arrange the document sorter on his desk. He also brought me back to the present.

He looked at me, and his color was gone from his face. The phone call was obviously details about the attack. Hell I would have given him all the details he needed, but I doubt that he would've believed me.

"Son, I don't know how, but you are lucky to be alive." I knew it, but I guess those things don't hit you until later. The adrenaline must have worn off, because I suddenly slumped to the chair just to the right and behind me.

The Colonel rose slightly to see if I was still with him, and I raised my hands to motion that I was.

"I'm sorry sir. I guess it just hit me."

"It's okay son. Damn. You really did get hit by a mortar. Heh, no wonder you laughed." He chuckled a bit before he sat.

"Listen, I won't lie to you. Some really weird things have been happening around here lately, and I need all the help I can get. If you can survive this little incident, then I think your tardiness this morning is more than made up. In fact, I think I know just the discipline to straighten you out."

I sat up suddenly. Did I hear him correctly? Discipline? But I thought he was going to let this one slide? He noticed the look on my face.

"Don't worry son. A little 'T.L.C' from the medics and you'll be ready to lead your flight on a quick run out to the origin of those shells." At that he stood, called for a medic, and the rest of the morning was spent for me being looked after by two of my section's "casualty collection" boys, all the while riding in a modified deuce and a half.

The truck took us out to 500 meters from the fence, where we found a weird device. I knew that the insurgents sometimes left their wears after they exhausted their uses, but this was no mortar tube and base plate. It was more of a chest. Like the old pirate chests from those kid stories you hear.

I know that it was stupid, and not regulation at all, but I told the rest of my people to set up a perimeter while I took Tech Sergeant Sims with me to check out the thing.

"Sir, this thing wasn't here when the Predator flew over. The only thing here was a few scorch marks and footprints."

"Huh. Well, if it wasn't visible here before, maybe it was just buried. Let's check it out."

Sims gave me a look, before he took a step back. I wasn't going to let him get in trouble by messing with something like that, and I let him know it.

"Hey, you just radio back and tell them we found a suspicious package. I'll see if there are any distinguishing marks." Sims again voiced his displeasure with his face, and I just shrugged. I know that it wasn't smart, but I let the moment get to me.

When Sims went off to radio the news, I crept closer to the chest, and it seemed to be humming. It was low at first, but when I got closer, the humming rose in volume, and soft light shone from the seam in the lid. Before I had a chance, the lid exploded from the bottom case, and the light pored straight up in a brilliant flash that blinded me for a few long seconds. In those seconds, I saw things… many different things that I didn't understand. I saw partially crumbling cities form all across the globe. I was witness to rising seas and drastic temperature changes. When I finally recovered, Sims was running back to my position. He was waving his arms and carrying his assault rifle at the ready.

I knew that was not a good sign, so I pulled my side arm from the thigh holster and thumbed the safety. When he reached me, he looked a bit frightened.

"Calm down Sarge, it was only a light show." He looked at me and gave a convincing, "What?" I smirked and turned a round, only to find no trace of the box or the impressions of a box in the sand. "Ok, now I'm going crazy."

Sims grabbed my kevlar vest and shook me. "No! Sir, we are under attack! That radical group of national rebels is back, and they have overrun the main gates!" That got my attention.

"I didn't know about the Nationals! Ugh, what a first day!" Again, Sims looked at me with a scared expression, when he shouted, "First day my ass! You've been here as the XO for our security forces for four years now! I didn't think that blast knocked you that far back!"

Now I was a little scared. It was my first day, right? I took another look at the spot where the box was, and noticed a crater farther back, probably created by a grenade. So that was the blast Sims was talking about. I shook those thoughts when we heard another explosion, this one from the direction of the command center. The sergeant and I took off running for the base.

The fighting that day will never leave my mind. Sims and I fought to hook up with the rest of "my" flight, and then made a push into the center of the base. The main resistance came from the two technicals the nationalists brought with them. They both mounted fifty caliber machine guns and were speeding around the base, causing random violence against menacing concrete shelters and wooden furniture wherever they could be found. Luckily, we kept them from traveling as far as the flight line and the hangers for the airlift squadron we had on base. A few of the men in my flight were sharpshooters and took out the personnel in the vehicles before they made too much commotion. The rest of the rebels were rounded up and, despite protocol, we only ended up with a few prisoners. It is quite a sight to see men and women pouring out of their workplaces armed to the teeth and looking pissed. I don't blame them. They were in the middle of their work day, and some idiots screaming about world unification being unjust come rolling into the base.

Their statements were what made it click with me. World Unification? Where and what the hell happened to the Middle East? I decided to check out the current situation, but before I could make it to the base computer lounge, I heard my name being called on the PA system.

"Captain Fowler, please report to command for final debrief. I say again, Captain Fowler," I didn't pay attention to the rest. I looked down, and noticed my ABU's still had the dirt and grime from the "morning's" explosions, but with the addition of captain's bars on the lapels. Now I was genuinely scared. Had I just lost four years of my life? Four years that I can't take back? I still felt like a twenty three year old LT.

I turned to Sims, who was with me through the whole ordeal, and finally got a good look at him. He looked a great deal older than the man I met a few hours earlier. We both slumped to the ground, leaning against one of the aforementioned nightmare trucks. He also produced a pack of smokes from his breast pocket, removed two, and presented me with one. I took it, thinking that two in a day would be a bit much. I was wrong. Apparently, I was used to much more, but that wouldn't hit me until a while later. We shared a quiet smoke, neither one of us speaking. Finally, Sims took one last drag on his cig and flicked it away.

"You're lucky Cap'n. You don't have to stay and help bury our dead." He stood up and offered me his hand. I noticed his rank then, Senior Master Sergeant. I guess that something really went wrong. He must have misread my expression, because he grunted.

"Don't worry sir. I think that your new post will suit you well. Just remember this one thing. You have made this unit proud. If you ever need us, you know where to find us." He snapped to attention, and threw up a crisp salute. I didn't know what I had done to deserve this man's respect, but I did not intend to leave it unreturned. I mirrored his actions, and then he about faced from my presence. I watched him move off through the rubble of the base, until the PA system finally managed to shake me into action.

When I reached command, one of the orderlies bustling about presented me with a large file.

"Here are your discharge papers, sir. Everything is all set, all we need now is your John Hancock." He gave me a sad smile, and I looked down at his name plate.

"Thank you, Airman Winston." I took the papers and signed my name to the lines where I was prompted. He took them back, and gave me a salute. I returned the gesture, and then stopped him.

"Winston."

"Yes Sir?" He seemed to brighten at my mention of his name.

"Take care of yourself." I had honestly thought of asking him why I was being discharged until I read the bulletin board behind him. On it was displayed a list of officers taking volunteered leave of service, part of the force shaping program. At the very top was my name, and the day's date; June 21, 2012.

After taking my discharge papers from the MPF office, I gathered what little belongings I had with me on this deployment, and made my way to the flight line. I carried my issue duffle, full of my ABU's, spare boots, toiletries, and my pillow. In my hand I carried my laptop bag, with a fairly new, at the time of my deployment anyway, computer and some light reading material. Apparently I was already in line for a job with a private security corporation. I was supposed to meet with a representative in Ramstein Germany. From there, they would fly me to the States and get me set up with one of their offices there.

It sounded too good to be true. Hell, I couldn't even remember almost all of my deployment and any of the experience I might have gained from being in the suck for four years. Whatever my soon to be employers sought from me could be gone, and all they would be left with would be a husk.

I shook my head as the C-17 that would carry me to Germany rolled onto the tarmac. That kind of thinking would only set me back even farther. It was time to do what I learned to do; adapt and be flexible.

"Flexibility is the key to Airpower," I half chuckled under my breath. The motto of my training days never seemed so appropriate.

As the ground crew ran around the airframe finishing their preflight work, I moseyed on over to the aircrew who were busy loading cargo.

"Going my way?" I asked a pair of Airmen. They stopped fooling with a crate and snapped to.

"At ease, boys." They shrunk down and grew soft expressions. One of them, the one closest to me nodded at me.

"Thanks again sir. You might not be taking this flight, had you boys not stopped those radicals. Honestly, I thought that we had this sector locked down, but I guess the UN has its hands full with the Russian front." He smirked a little. "Heh, it's not like things can get any worse."

I made a noncommittal grunt. What the hell was going on in the world? I really needed to find a wi-fi spot and get acclimated to the situation. During my inner reflection, the two airmen finished loading the crate, and buttoned up the cargo compartment on the massive Globemaster III. She was a beauty of engineering, capable of carrying 77,500 kg of material and travelling 450 knots, plus in-flight refueling. She could make the trip fairly easily, as the aircraft can travel 2,800 nautical miles before needing refueling.

All of the information about the aircraft came flooding into my mind unbidden, just like a trigger. It was the same sensation as earlier in the day, when the fighting started. I remember moving around the grounds, shouting commands at airmen who looked ready to eat someone's lunch.

The two airmen seemed a bit deflated from the surge of adrenaline leaving their systems finally, and one produced a pack of cigs from who knows where. The other kid noticed my eyes lock onto the pack, and he nudged his buddy.

"Oh, sorry sir. We just sort of forgot." The first Airman, a Staff Sergeant by the tag Hill, said.

I dismissed his hesitation with a wave. "Tell you what. You just let me bum one off of you, and you won't hear a thing from me."

They both brightened at the statement, and Hill graciously produced a cancer stick and lit it for me. I almost moaned. _What the hell has gotten into me? Am I addicted or what?_ Apparently, I had taken up the habit during my stay in country, and was suffering a mild withdrawal.

Taking a few quick, long drags on the nicotine catalyst, I closed my eyes and let the world fade away. Only when I finished the cherry did I open my eyes and notice the flight crew beckoning me over. I nodded a "thanks" to Hill and the A1C, and made my way to the midsection of the C-17. The loadmaster and the pilot were outside the ladder discussing the mission.

"I know we weren't supposed to carry passengers, but Command just saddled him with us… Look, just let him use one of the web seats you guys use. If it gets bad, just send him up to the jump seat. This cargo has to be sent back to 'Ram' to be analyzed."

The pilot, a Major by the rank on his jumpsuit shoulders, noticed me finally, and greeted.

"Good evening Captain. Sorry about that. We weren't expecting to ferry personnel on this trip. Senior Airman Jones will show you the web seat we fashioned for you."

I gave him a quick salute, which he returned almost too quickly, and I thanked him, before Jones and I made our way into the belly of the plane. It wasn't too bad. The seat they set up for me was equivalent to a hammock with the holes between the ropes too wide. I actually managed to get a few hours sleep, after the take-off and three hour flight out of restricted airspace. The rebels still send a few stingers our way every now and then, and I wasn't about to nod off during the good part.

We only had one instance during that trip, and the crew did an outstanding job with the situation. Apparently, a group of three rebels were camped out 5 km from the base, and took a pot shot at us with a Stinger. I had a head-set on for this part of the flight, and I was privy to the chatter.

"SAM launch," came the calm warning from the co-pilot.

"Confirmed. Jones, buckle up back there."

"Sir." I took a look at Jones, and his face just remained neutral during the whole thing. After the audible warning from the onboard computer, the blaring klaxon was silenced, and the pilot came on again.

"I think they had a mishap." There was a smile on his face you could hear. The co-pilot chimed in, "Yeah. Damn. Hey Cap? I guess we won't need to alert the base to send your boys out. Suckers just had a round cook off down there."

I chuckled at the news. Serves them right, using that Russian shit. Still, that shit had teeth, when it worked right.

After we shared a laugh, the co-pilot did radio in the incident to the base, and they probably had my section scrambling to the location. They would be too late to find anything but scraps and "surprises", though. I shivered at the thought of the "presents" our enemies would leave us.

For the remainder of the trip, I spent my time sleeping, or reading up on my new employer. I had a file folder full of the usual bull, mission statements, and bells and whistles. What I couldn't put my finger on was why I was practically chosen for the job. I looked through the file and noticed a great deal of correspondence in paper form. I tend to print and save documents for just such an occasion. I knew better than to waste my laptop's battery when I didn't know I would be able to charge it again.

What little the letters let me know, was that I approached the company, a Blackwater Inc., for a job opening. After I passed through their weeding out process, I was passed to a secondary branch of their organization that dealt with security for private and government agencies. I was meeting one of the secondary members in Ram for an "introductory course". I had seen many introductory courses in my day, and this one seemed a little off. A private jet from Europe to CONUS? Well, I just had to wait.

It wasn't long before I was back in Germany for the second time in my life, and both were just visits to Ramstein Air Base. I wished that one day I could come back and visit the rich history of the Bavarian nation.

This visit was no more promising than the first in the vacation department, for as soon as the C-17 rolled to a stop on the flight line, I saw through the hatch window a gun- metal grey C-21 Learjet waiting. I dismounted the Globemaster, said my farewells to the crew, and walked with all my worldly possessions to the much smaller jet. A man in a black suit was waiting for me at the ladder, and he shook my hand once, hard.

"Good Morning Captain Fowler. My name is Harrison Rivers. I will be your liaison for Blackwater's Force Prime division."

I took a second to try and read the man before me. He was just over my height, at an even 6 feet. He had jet black hair, in a short efficient crew cut, and wore tinted black Rayban sunglasses. He never smiled; even after we took off.

"Thank you. I hope that you don't mind me asking a whole lot of questions."

If he was perturbed at all by my admission, Rivers didn't let it show on his face.

"Not at all. That is why I am here. Shall we?" He motioned to the C-21 and we both boarded the aircraft. After a very brief turnaround, I was once again on my way to the United States; it was only a few months, or rather four years, but it felt like an eternity since I left. The silence in the plane didn't last long. Rivers took off his sunglasses shortly after takeoff, and he let his face soften ever so slightly. I noticed he had dark green eyes, and looked to be about my age. Well, my real age of 27, not how I felt.

Just as I was about to ask, Rivers broke the silence.

"By the way," he started with a slight humorous lift to his voice, "We have a dress code." I laughed, trying to picture myself in anything but ABU's and Blues. It really had been a long time. I figured this job would be right up my alley. So far, it seemed fine enough. I had only brushed the surface of one of the wildest situations of my life.

* * *

Glossary: 

ABU's- Airman Battle Uniform

Security Forces (SF)- Base defense forces. The soldiers of the Air Force

T.L.C.- Tender Loving Care

MPF- Military Personnel Flight; manages all of the personnel for a base, housing, lodging, and pay.

Volunteered leave of service- Program for officers to volunteer to leave the Air Force to make room for new faces and help "force shape".

Force Shape- program to resize the AF down to a certain number of total personnel.

RPG- Rocket Propelled Grenade

SAM- Surface to Air Missile

Ram- Short for Ramstein AB.

CONUS- Continental U.S.

First Sergeant- The NCOIC for a flight or squadron

NCOIC- Non Commissioned Officer in Charge

Flight- The smallest organization of personnel in the Air Force.

Squadron- The Middle range for organizations in the AF.

For those who have done their best...


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

And I'm back folks! Sorry about the wait, but I've been a bit busy with the commissioning and all. On with it!

Promise there will be more Eva soon! Hints to the story in this chapter!

* * *

Chapter 2

New Blackwater HQ

Roanoke, VA USA

June 21, 2012

Agent Rivers led me from the C-21 to the only building I could see from the tarmac. The cement and brick structure was only two stories tall, but I figured that the facility spread far under ground. Rivers led me to the only opening I could see in the gray wall. It was a steel blast door with a card reader and key pad which opened swiftly for Rivers, and he motioned me forward.

On the way to our destination, my gear was taken from me by another nameless black suit with nary a word. As we walked and traveled from floor to floor with the aid of a lift, it dawned on me just how massive the complex was. We were easily four stories under ground now, and I was getting a feeling that we had barely brushed the surface of the facility.

Finally, after about five minutes of travel, we approached a heavy double oak monstrosity of a door with another agent standing guard. He nodded to Rivers.

"Agent Rivers, the boss wants you to take the FNG to the confidence course when you are finished with the debrief. Captain Fowler, your personal gear and firearm are in your quarters, and you may retrieve them after the meeting."

The agent moved to a keypad on the wall and punched in a code. I gave him a nod of thanks and then made a face. I was still wearing my battle scarred uniform, and I did not want to make a bad first impression. I glanced at Rivers, but he was no help. I guess that I'd have to use my natural charm to smooth the tears in my untidy appearance.

When the doors finally opened, I was greeted with a blast of what appeared to be sunlight. The room was about 12 feet by 30 feet, and was dominated by a huge cherry wood long table. On the wall opposite the doors, a huge window dominated from one end of the room to the other with a mid-day, sun blasted green landscape, with little windows portraying statistics and a holographic map of the world. On one of the windows, a picture of a man in a suit was talking to the only two occupants in the room. They ended their conversation once Rivers and I made our presence known.

"Thank you sir. I do believe that we can accommodate you in your request." With that, the talking head vanished, replaced with a dossier indicating my personnel file. I guessed that the future was here, and I better get a more current laptop.

"Ah, Captain Fowler! Nice to finally meet you!" The two men turned from the window to address me. While they both wore the ubiquitous black suits of the rest of the employees, they both shed their blazers and had them draped over the backs of their chairs. The first was a young man, muscular build, in his mid thirties with black hair and grey eyes. His face showed the wrinkles of one involved in a high stress occupation. That reminded me to take a long shower, and get a good look at what four years of my life in the sandbox had done to my own face. The second, the man who spoke to me, was more what one would think of when the name "boss" is used. He was early fifties, but with muscle that could take on a man twice his junior, and white hair. His blue eyes locked with mine, and the abundant wrinkles on his face multiplied ten-fold as he smiled.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Director Harland Jones, and this is Force Prime head Agent Derrick Johnson. We were just discussing a new job that I think you might be a perfect fit for. Agent Johnson?" We shook hands and Johnson offered his hand.

"Captain." We shook and his face smoothed into a more neutral state. "I'm glad you got here when you did. The UN is busting us for more men to work on one of their projects as security, and we were running out of options."

I was a little taken back by this open acceptance of my new superiors, but I didn't want to mention anything just yet. Instead, I just nodded a thank you, and posed a question.

"Well gentlemen, I'm glad I can be of some use. It's been a while since I was idle, and I don't want to start now." Director Jones burst into a laugh, "That's the spirit son! Agent Rivers will take you down to the Course and then we'll discuss the finer points of the assignment. That will be all gentlemen."

I let out a breath that I didn't know I'd been holding, and stood at attention. I almost saluted, but stopped myself short and did an about face instead.

Once outside, I turned to Rivers. "Any idea about this new assignment?"

He glanced in my direction, "None. Agents get their information on a need to know basis. My mission was to acquire you and bring you in to HQ. That was it. Now I need to make sure you are up to speed with our requirements for field agents, so that's what I'm doing." He was clearly finished explaining, and I was completely confirmed in my decision to get him laid. Or at least to loosen him up slightly. He was way to stiff, even for a suit man. I was about halfway through my plan when it dawned on me that the guard called me a "fucking new guy".

IOLIOLIOLIOLIOL

The confidence course turned out to be easier than I thought, with a firearms proficiency exam at the end of a rather ingenious obstacle course. I was met by a rather large black man at the range, with a set of grey coveralls filled with all sorts of cleaning and reloading equipment stuffed in any open pocket space. He had a fat stogie in his craw, and he smiled through the unlit cigar.

"So you're the newbie, huh? Name's Malcolm. Malcolm Terrell. I get the glory of maintaining and equipping you field boys with only the best shit. Says in my file that you've got your own piece. Well, you've got to prove that your proficient with our standard gear before you can carry your own, so make sure you follow the rules and make marksman with the '9' so I don't have to kick your ass back to the boss for sending me some muscle head who'd just as soon club a man to death with his piece than shoot him with it." I had to laugh, if only because he was the complete opposite of the rest of the automatons who stomped the halls of the building.

"All right Terrell. I'll do you one better. I make expert, and you owe me a pack of cigs." I stuck out my hand, and smiled when Malcolm shook it. He squeezed a bit harder than I was prepared for, but smiled and said, "You're on!"

With that, I moved up to one of the cubicles and picked up the Berretta 92FS on the counter, loaded a magazine, and charged the first round. After donning ear and eye protection, I lined up my shot, and sent the first of 45 rounds down range. To make expert, I had to have a total of 45 shots on paper, with 13 in the head and 26 in the chest of a silhouette target at 25 yards. I just nailed it with 13 in the head, two of the others in the neck, and 27 in the ring of the chest. The rest of my shots were in the body, with the last four in the stomach. I cleared the weapon and turned to Malcolm with a grin on my face. He frowned at first, and then broke into a huge grin.

"Fair's fair man. One pack. Preferred flavor?" My mouth watered, "Camel Frost."

"You got it pal." Yep, I was gonna enjoy this job.

Malcolm took me, after signing my check papers that I passed, to a vending machine outside the range. He deposited a few dollars and out came my death of choice. Reaching into my pockets, I found my Air Force emblazoned Zippo lighter in my right breast pocket.

Malcolm charged the pack for me, then handed it off. I looked around for a no-smoking sign, but I found none.

Mal gave me a laugh as he lit his stogie with a wood match, "It's okay in here Cap."

It was all I could do not to rip the smoke out of the pack, but I finally got the bugger lit and to my mouth before I started shaking. I knew I had it bad as far as addictions went, and I wondered how much longer I could afford to slowly kill myself. Little did I know that the addiction would open up so many doors in only a few short weeks.

Soon enough, after my second cig, I pocketed the pack as Rivers entered the room. He looked a little off balance and I had to chuckle.

"You okay there Rivers? You look like you just got a scolding."

Malcolm chuckled, "Hmm, the old lady finally tell you off?" I looked down to find a ring on Rivers' left ring finger. I clamped my mouth shut and stammered out an apology.

"I'm sorry Harrison. Didn't know you were married."

He answered in a very disturbingly neutral voice. "No. It's just you're my new partner."

I shot out, "Well is that so bad?"

Harrison shook his head. "No, it's what our assignment is." I couldn't stand him for leaving me hanging.

"And? What is it?"

He finally looked at me and slyly said, "Babysitting… Again."

"Aww man! I'm sorry for you two." I could have done without Mal's input, but what Rivers said finally got to me.

"Wait, what do you mean, again!?" That brought even more laughter from Terrell.

IOLIOLIOLIOLIOLIOLIOLIOLIOL

Rivers took me to the living quarters of the complex, where there were rooms after rooms of hotel-style dorms. We stepped into my little section of life and I was presently surprised. There was a queen sized bed along the far wall, and a desk-chair combo, a small fully equipped bathroom, and a full sized walk-in closet. On the wall opposite the door there was another shape shifting window that portrayed a mid afternoon snapshot of the above ground landscape. Rivers picked up a remote control from the desk and pressed a few buttons. The screen turned into a sectioned off split between my personnel file and a briefing document. He motioned me over with a small wave of the remote.

"Here's our assignment." I let the fact he said we go to the back of my mind since I was eager to get back to work.

"A new organization funded and controlled by the UN is conducting testing in the Nevada desert. We're being contracted to provide security for some of the personnel."

"Who exactly will we be protecting? And from what?" I was overcome with curiosity.

Rivers shrugged and I knew it was something bothering him. He made some moves with the remote again and a new picture presented itself.

The picture in the window made me take in a sharp breath in surprise. It was of a young boy, about 11 years old with blond hair and green eyes. The dossier was emblazoned with a half fig leaf and the word NERV, and finally the name of the subject, Zachary Carlson. I took a moment to analyze the dossier, then turned to Rivers.

"So we really are babysitting, huh?" Rivers shrugged and sighed.

"Yup. Listen, I'm off in an hour. How about you get yourself cleaned up, and we'll go celebrate our last night of freedom."

I laughed, "Sounds like a great idea. I'll meet you in the lounge in 80?"

Rivers nodded and turned to leave. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get any more points on me, so as he was exiting the room, I called out, "And tell the missus I can't wait to meet her!"

I was answered by a slamming door.

After my orientation by Rivers, I took a moment to acclimate to my new home. I went about settling all my belongings in their places when I noted a wall safe I the closet. Along with the safe, there were five black suits, all neatly pressed and hung immaculately. I knew just by looking at them that they would fit like a well tailored masterpiece. I also investigated the safe, which responded to my thumb print. Inside contained my personal firearm, and Israeli Military Industries Jericho 941, 9 millimeter steel framed semi-automatic pistol. I dug into my closet for my IWB holster and set up my outfit for the evening. I decided to go for casual, with a pair of loose khaki slacks and a blue polo shirt. I had about 45 minutes to spare and I needed a long shower.

I stepped into the large bathroom and was enraptured by the figure staring back at me from the mirror. I saw a 27 year old, tanned skinned fellow with a brown crew cut, short on the sides but long enough on the top for a spike; brown eyes with a hint of wrinkles and the dirty look of a desperately needed shave. I reached up to touch my face and the illusion was broken.

This was who I was, and there was no going back. I had to accept the fact that I was now 27, with nothing but the occasional hitch in the memories to carry me through the rest of my life. I shook those feelings of dread away with a physical motion and resolved to just stick it out. Hell, I had a meeting to go to, and an pole to pull out of an ass.

My meeting with the Rivers was pretty casual, but it let me catch a glimpse of my partner's more human side. His wife was a charming brunette from Tennessee, with a large warm smile and kind eyes. Her name was Clara, and she complemented Harrison's height well. She was average height, bout 5 and a half feet tall and a medium build.

We spent the evening off the complex grounds at a local dive that was rather homey for the apparent state of the world. Most of the early conversation was spent with me trying to doge questions about my deployment, but that proved a lot less difficult than I had feared. Instead, we spoke mainly on the issues of the world and what was going on across the globe.

I learned a lot more about the situation in 30 minutes with them than the entirety of my two days out of the service.

Apparently, the 2000 was a horrible time for humanity, go figure. Basic 'civie' scuttlebutt pointed at the meteorite that melted Antarctica as a sign of the end times. Most in my profession however had their own theories. Government cover-ups and conspiracies were numbers 1 and 2 on the list. Since my unique situation had removed me from this chain of events I was fairly unbiased about the whole thing.

The rest of the meal was spent on the subject of family. Now, it hadn't occurred to me what might have happened to my folks since my incident, but when the Rivers' started up about where they came from, it got my soul on edge.

_What happened to this world? Were am I?_ I knew that I needed to find out if my folks were even still alive, or if I existed in this crazy Charlie-Foxtrot of a world.

But first, there were some smothered and covered hash browns that were in immediate need of relocation.

* * *

Glossary:

IWB: Inside the waist band. A holster that fits inside the band of the pants and is considerably more concealing than a regular carry holster.

Thank you for your time, and don't forget to hug your loved ones!

Aidan


	3. Chapter 3

Here it is folks! I would like to give a shout out and big thank you to my beta, armydude! Thanks so much for your help Sgt! Go read his stuff! It's great and very insightful.

On with it!

* * *

Chapter 3

2 Years Later

Rivers and I sat in our government appropriated black sedan, parked outside the gates of Norwood Academy, a prep school for gifted children.

"Hey Rivers?" I turned to the man at the wheel. He rotated his head slightly in my direction. That was how he let me know he was listening. It took a while to get used to, but eventually we fell into a routine. He was the strong silent type, and I provided the commentary.

"What do you think they have this kid doing all day when we drop him off? He's only 13! why does some UN crack job want a kid?"

Rivers gave me the look even behind his sunglasses that spoke volumes. I hadn't expected him to actually respond.

"Our job is not to question. We just transport and protect. Why are you so curious all of the sudden?"

I let it go that he spoke more to me in a few sentences than he had all week. It was coming close to his wedding anniversary, I forgot which one, and he was miffed.

"I guess it's just that NERV place seems sketchy, you know?"

That got his attention. He turned his head full in my direction. "What gives you that idea?"

I looked back to the gates of the school. It was an older model style, with the building forming a U shape with a massive courtyard in the middle. The students were in the middle of their lunch hour, and the courtyard was packed with the great minds of the future.

"The signs are everywhere man. But for starters, why are we never allowed passed the gates? Both sets even!" I gestured to the aforementioned iron monstrosity across the street.

Rivers groaned, "It's probably for our own good. Who knows what sort of devious devices they have locked up in there."

I let the statement linger. We had been escorting young Zach for upwards of 2 years now, and we never once got to cross into the base or the school. What kind of protection did they think we were going to provide by staying strictly on the routes to and from the base and the school? Even with the little amount of time Rivers and I spent with Zach, as he insisted we call him, we formed a pretty solid group. Rivers especially seemed attached to the kid. I was beginning to worry about the Iceman, since his demeanor changed 180 degrees whenever Zach was around. He and Clara were trying to have kids of their own before this assignment, so I imagine that this was special for him.

Today was another typical day; stake out the school, ensure no suspicious activities occurred, and provide safe transport back to NERV's United States branch. After reading up on our employer, I learned that NERV had branches all over the world, but their main base was located in Tokyo 3. Why the three, I once asked of Rivers. He just pointed to a documentary on the Antarctic disaster, and I knew. Felt kind of sheepish also, not comprehending that is the polar continent suddenly vaporized, the resulting tidal wave would flood much of the world's coastal population centers.

All the talk about global crises made us both forget about lunch until I looked back to the kids and their meals.

"Say Rivers, you want anything from the shop?" He shook his head but I knew the man couldn't say no to a Cornetto.

"I'll be right back." I left the cramped confines of our sedan and began the 2 block walk to a little one-stop shop we found a year back. After spending a year living on whatever was available on the road, I quickly tired of the usual grade D meat products. When we found the "Ace in the Hole", it was a welcomed change. Besides, they sold my brand of cigs.

I was proud of the fact that I managed to keep myself in prime shape despite my killer habit. I lit one Frost and continued on my memorized trip. I was half way through my cig and musing about the nuances of NERV when I bumped into someone.

"I'm sorry Miss. I wasn't paying attention..." I stopped when I noticed her jacket. It was the same as the officers at NERV. My eyes traveled up to the lapels and caught the rank of captain, or the new Japanese equivalent. Once I got passed the rank, my sight focused on her face. She was rather stunning, but had a haunted look in her violet eyes. Those eyes were locked on the Frost in my mouth with a hunger I learned not so long ago. Without a word, I reached into my suit jacket and produced another Frost and lit it for her. She accepted it graciously and turned with a swish of shoulder-blade length black hair. Her hair and eyes were so vivid; they held my attention mostly because her hair was so black that in the light, it almost looked purple.

"Damn." I muttered after her. "Not even a word. Must be a hell of a day." I shrugged off the encounter and continued to the shop.

IOLIOLIOLIOLIOLIOLIOLIOLIOLIOL

School let out at the usual time, 2:30, and we pulled up to the gates to receive our VIP. We saw Zach waving goodbyes to his buddies before he spotted our car. He ran towards us, and Rivers had his hand on the door release. When Zach was 10 feet from the car, Rivers opened the back door and Zach barreled into the rear passenger compartment.

"Man I never get tired of that!" Zach whooped and I had a hunch that the kid would be a blast at college parties. Rivers looked into the rear view mirror.

"Where too, bud?" Again, never ceased to shock me a bit a the change in my partner. Zach gave a short thought before responding.

"How 'bout we blow this joint? Hit up the mall or something? I hear the arcade has a new Mortal Kombat sim." Had to give the kid credit. He was a risk taker. Rivers answered for me.

"The base it is!" Zach just groaned.

Our sedan made the trip out of town fairly quickly, and I tried to talk with my partner.

"Maybe one day of fun would do us all some good?" I ventured. Rivers just gave me that side glance that said, "drop it."

I knew that my statement was true, and Rivers knew it too, but we had a mission. And orders. The key component that kept everything from going balls up when the shit happened. In two years, we only had three incidents, and those were solved with minor detours. A car fire and two local S.W.A.T encounters were the only action the broke the routine of our job. Couldn't wish for anything more.

I was jolted out of my musings by Rivers.

"Heads up," he called. Ahead of us, on the most lonesome stretch of desert highway imaginable, a cargo semi-truck was jackknifed across the lanes and slowly burning. There was a police car from the local jurisdiction on scene, but that was it. Something felt off, so I leaned back to Zach.

"Why don't you get down of the floor for a bit, dude. May have something up here." Thankfully, he did as asked. When I turned back around, the officer was out of his cruiser and walking toward us. Again that feeling of dread, but before I had a chance to say anything, the officer drew his sidearm and began shooting at Rivers. The bullets smeared themselves against the inch thick bulletproof windscreen as Rivers gunned the engine. The view space was quickly filling with the white streaks of spent energy, and visibility was sketchy, but from the _Thump Thump _from under the chassis, I knew Rivers managed to run the guy down. How he managed to get around the rig I'll never know, but when we finished our little off-road venture, Rivers suggested I call the base and declare an emergency. I pulled out my phone and dialed the number from memory. I was immediately connected with the QRF officer in charge.

"This is Delta Oh One Six. We have encountered hostile activity 10 klicks from Sanctuary and are declaring an emergency." The OIC came back, "Roger Delta Oh One Six. We have your position and we are scrambling Alfa and Hotel support elements. Out."

His response was reassuring. Alfa and Hotel units were air and ground combat vehicles. Before I could breathe, Rivers spoke up.

"We have company." I looked back and saw three dune buggies clawing at the desert, rapidly accelerating on our six o-clock.

"They're gaining." I mumbled. "We can't go any faster. My vision's shit right now. Don't want to blow the screen case they've got heavy shit." It struck me as the only time I've ever heard Rivers curse, but it fit the situation. I nodded and turned back to Zach who was still on the floorboards.

"Hey bud, reach through to the trunk and get me the G-36." Zach nodded and folded down the connector between the trunk and passenger compartments. When he was almost back out of the trunk, the car rocked forward by the impact from a long burst of heavy machine gun fire. The rounds felt like they tore a line across the back of the trunk and I heard Zach yell out.

"SHIT! What happened Zach?" I yelled back at him.

"Got pieces of the car in my legs!" Even as head said it, he managed to hand me the rifle case. I switched places with it and sat in the back seat next to Zach. _Remember SABC!_ I mentally chanted. The wounds looked superficial, but I got a glance at his side and saw where a piece of the trunk lodged itself in right where one of his kidneys should have been. Forcing the panic in my mind back into the far reaches of my grey matter, I took off my suit jacket and told him to press down hard around the wound. There was still a piece in there, and didn't want to exacerbate the problem. I yelled up at Rivers.

"ETA!?" He made an evasive maneuver that slung us around in the back seat and yelled, "5 minutes!"

_Shit that's fast! _ Somehow, I got the G-36 out of the case and loaded. Again I called to Rivers, "Target?" He calmly relayed that one of the buggies was approaching on the left. I rolled down the window and a blast of wind rushed into the car. We were booking it at over 110 mile per hour, and I yelled back in to Zach, "Stay awake for me bud." With that last comment I muscled my torso out of the window where I could line up a shot.

The buggy was a converted civilian model that had an extra rider on a dorsal mount. He had a mean looking M60 pointed at our sedan and I lined up a shot to remove the threat. I squeezed off a three round burst that caught the gunner just above the trigger his hands occupied. He lost his grip and hung lifelessly from his harness. The passenger wasn't about to let his buddy die without payback, and leveled an old M79 grenade launcher in our direction. I shouted a warning to Rivers, and he made a correction just as the grenadier fired. The blast went wide left and I felt the heat and debris scraping at my face and torso with a fury. He was good. I managed to correct my aim and fired a double tap of three round bursts at him. Something found its mark, because the buggy decelerated to a stop 50 yards behind us. We had a good 500 yard lead on the closest buggy behind us, so I crawled my torso back into the car. Zach was still moaning so I knew he was awake, and I could hear the _Whump Whump Whump _of a helo on approach. Our backup arrived and scared off the remaining pursuers. I made another call to the base, and this time an unknown female voice answered.

"Sitrep," was the only word I got from her.

"Package is injured, need immediate access to medical ASAP."

A second passed, "Roger that. Hotel One will escort you to the med facility. Proceed immediately to the facility." I let out a breath.

"Wilco. Delta Oh One Six, out." The ride into the base continued at top speed, and Rivers only slowed down once passed the gate to let the escort Hummer to get in front of us a guide. We drove for another minute and stopped at the large medical facility on the vast base. When we pulled up, a crash crew jumped into action and got Zach on a gurney and on his way inside. I finally safe'd the G-36 once he was inside the building and placed it back in the car. I joined Rivers at the doors of the med facility and lit up. I let the scene fill me like the smoke in my lungs. The entire engagement lasted little more than three minutes, but there were easily a hundred holes in our vehicle, some the size of a grapefruit. Only when I finished my cig and lit another did I ask myself, "What the fuck just happened?"

Rivers and I looked at each other and we shrugged. "Hell if I know, I just work here." He really does have a way with words.

After about 5 minutes of me smoking and Rivers just staring at our wreck, a man in a tan uniform and a red beret with a MAC-10 on a three-point sling approached us.

"Agent Rivers, Agent Fowler, you are wanted at the Op center. Follow me." We followed the tan-clad soldier to a hummer which took us further into the base. We stopped at a long, large one story concrete building and made our way inside, passed security checkpoints and down an elevator. After a short hike, we ended our romp through the underbelly of this UN beast in a large cavernous space adorned with a huge holographic projection of the ongoing conflict we survived presented on the far wall, a good hundred feet away and on an upward sloping perspective from our vantage point. I was in awe of the scale! _This space could swallow a C-17 whole!_

Then I noticed the countless workstations, at which sat numerous computer technicians all attentive to the skirmish. Apparently, when one of these guys or kids get banged up, they don't mess around. I watched as the last buggy exploded from a volley of 2.75 inch rockets slamming into the chassis. When the fireworks died, the image that replaced it was of our boss, and he looked relieved to see the two of us. We went through the usual greetings and quickly noticed we weren't alone, with a small gesture from our boss.

I turned and felt my mouth go dry. We saw a brass parade formed up facing the screen. There were four of them, all with no less than three stars on their shoulders and from all four branches of the United States armed forces, minus the Coast Guard. I fought to keep my hand at my side, but lost the battle with my posture from going to the position of attention. The Air Force General, Howell by his name tag, approached.

"Agent Fowler, at ease. Agent Rivers, you both performed admirably today. Thank you." He reached for my partner's hand and then mine, then turned to our boss.

"Well Harland, your boys did well today. Thank you." Harland Jones seemed relieved.

"How's young Zachary?" He always was a softy. Can't say I blamed him. The Marine General spoke up.

"We won't know until the Captain comes back with a report, but the prognosis is good. Captain, uh Agent Fowler did well remembering his self-aid and buddy care." I had the decency to blush.

Howell spoke again, "Good to know our training came in good use, huh Jim?" We were interrupted by a small cough. I turned and faced the same raven haired vision from earlier in the day. We both had looks of surprise and recognition blazing across our faces.

The captain regained her composure before I could and faced the boss. "Pilot Carlson is stable, but it will be some time before the docs let him continue his simulations." I was so in shock from seeing the woman again that I missed her report. How could I have missed that she was Captain Katsuragi, the Operations Director for NERV's Tokyo 3 branch. We had detailed personnel files for all of the higher ups in NERV, but I dismissed them seeing as we never did interact with them except for the gate guards.

"Let's continue this debrief in the conference room. We would like your after action, agents." General Howell motioned us to a door on the far right of the huge op center. Rivers and I shared a look of doom.

Paperwork?!?! Awwww Shit.

* * *

Next one is in the works. Told ya I'd have more EVA later and here it is! Well hold on tight cause the Eva-train is leaving the station. Next up will have a more familiar setting.


End file.
